


my love will never leave you

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician), zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Extraction, Sick Character, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordplay Fic Challenge (One Direction)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25085698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 56
Kudos: 134
Collections: Prompt 1.4: Extract





	my love will never leave you

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "extract". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/extract), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works). You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt).
> 
> Thank you, first of all, to the wonderful [Sus](https://lululawrence.tumblr.com/) for organizing Wordplay for the fourth time! Thank you also to my surgeon for not wanting to do surgery for another couple of months so I can actually participate this time!
> 
> As always, a massive, massive thank you to the exceptional [Sarah](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/) who has helped me out so much with this fic, and who sent me half a dozen voice messages basically cursing me out for the amount of angst in this fic. It made my day!
> 
> This fic might be the angstiest thing I've ever written. It also might be one of the favorite universes I've ever come up with. I hope you enjoy! <3

_"No."_

_"Harry, it's the only way."_

_"No. I won't let you forget about me."_

*

Louis can't remember exactly how much he's forgotten. 

It’s been years now, of little bits and pieces of his life disappearing from his mind, for the amusement of the Upper Class. Years where his mum begged him not to but he knew that he had to, because they couldn’t make ends meet and she had given up so much already. 

He’s not sure who came up with the idea, but it’s been a system that’s been in place for decades now, and in most circumstances, it works. People part with their memories in exchange for goods and services, when money doesn’t suffice. 

The genius thing about it is that it doesn’t hurt. Neither physically, nor emotionally, because how can you be sad about something that you don’t remember losing? 

Well. _Most_ of the time it doesn’t hurt.

The more potent the memory, the more valuable it is. Little things, like memories of a lazy Sunday in mid summer, they aren’t worth much. They’re a dime a dozen, sometimes literally. But important things, like meeting a new friend, or remembering the birth of your firstborn (Jay still regrets that, Louis knows, but he also knows that she’d had no choice, as a young single mum with a sick child and no money to her name), they’re valuable. 

Louis has heard about people being so desperate that they’d forgotten about entire people, but he’s always been able to get away with little things. Things that were just important enough to tide them over, but that haven’t left him feeling hollow, the way he’d heard can sometimes happen.

He didn’t know, when he was little, what happened with the memories, or why they were worth anything to anyone but him in the first place. But his mum had told him, when he was about ten years old and had given up his first memory to help her out (going behind her back and lying his ass off to the extractor, saying he had her permission); it was all for the Upper Class. She’d told him never to resent them, because as much as it could hurt to have to give up something so private, it was far better to have memories to spare than to have to live a life of nothingness.

Even at age ten he couldn’t fathom what that was like. To be part of the Upper Class, who never leave the Sky City, hardly ever leave their own building. Sure, the Sky City was safe, there was no war or famine, there were no illnesses, and everyone had enough money to make sure that they never needed to work a day in their lives. 

But there was also no love. No freedom. Nothing that made life worth living.

Except for the memories. 

The extractors were ranked above all others, Down Below, and for many of them it was the dream that they’d be able to retire to the Sky City, become part of the upper echelon, and secure a future for their children this way. They were the ones with the knowledge, had learned how to withdraw memories and bottle them, to keep them safe until they were delivered to whoever had bid the most.

Sometimes memories functioned as movies, for whole families to enjoy. But sometimes they were more personal, hidden away only to be viewed in the middle of the night. Memories of childbirth were valuable to aspiring mothers, who would never experience it for themselves, because up in the Sky City babies weren’t born, they were created, little test tube experiments that tried to weed out any bad DNA. 

Matches were made much the same way. There was a program, and it would tell people their perfect match, and that was that. They’d move in together, into one of the many homogenous buildings, and they would live out their life there, living vicariously through the people Down Below.

Of course, when his mum told him all that, Louis had assumed that it was at least in part exaggerated. As much as he didn’t understand why the Sky City people would care for their memories, he doubted that a supposedly perfect world could be that restrictive, that boring. If people had all the money in the world, why would they limit themselves to a life that was barely more than an existence?

Fear, Harry had said, when he’d met him.

Harry.

He was one of the Sky City people. One of the very few that had dared to defy the perfect order of their world, and found their way Down Below. One of the people who wanted to _live_ , not vicariously through others, but for themselves. Who wanted to experience pain and heartache and all the emotion that they’d viewed through a screen but never got to fully connect with. 

Harry, the love of Louis’ life. 

Harry, who is _dying_.

*

Louis was twenty three when he first met Harry. 

Actually, he first met Zayn. He’d met him through Liam, and the moment he’d laid eyes on him he’d known. Zayn was too perfect. Chiseled jaw and eyelashes for days, hair that always seemed to swoop just perfectly so, a body that could’ve been sculpted out of marble. Of course he was one of the Sky People, how could he not be? He was utter perfection, he had no flaws, at least not physically.

Emotionally, that was a completely different matter. Sky People didn’t learn to talk about their emotions; sometimes Louis doubted that they even had any, or if it was all just borrowed from the memories they’d grown up watching. They hadn’t learned to connect with them the way the people Down Below had, and as such, they could go either of two ways. They either bottled everything up, or they exploded on everyone else, all the time.

Zayn was the kind of person who bottled everything up. It’d been a few months after he’d come down - a few weeks since Louis had met him - that he grew quiet, and thin, and Liam had told Louis that he wasn’t sleeping. Liam was prone to exaggeration, especially when it came to his beautiful roommate, or as Louis called him, the stray that he’d picked up on the street, but Louis had only had to watch him to see it for himself. 

Zayn couldn’t cope. Memories, while easily available in the Sky City (how could it not be, when so many people Down Below couldn’t make ends meet with just money, when everyone knew that being an extractor wasn’t a simple 9 to 5 job), were spaced out, and lifeless, in a sense. And while the Sky People had memories of their own, nothing of importance really happened in their lives. The memories they accumulated weren’t so vivid, or so painful, as anything that the brain recorded Down Below.

He couldn’t sleep, he said, and Louis thought back on the many ways that people self medicated, on the alcohol and the drugs and the simple inability to function, because sometimes memories _were_ too much, and sometimes people went to the extractors and _begged_ them and returned hollow, lifeless in a way that was used as a warning by Louis’ mum and many of his friend’s mums alike. He’d been lucky, in a sense. Despite the circumstances he grew up in and the memories he’d had to part with, there were so many happy experiences to hold onto, more than enough to drown out the sad ones he’d come across in his life. 

But it made sense that Zayn was overwhelmed. This was all new to him, the suffering, the strife, even the happy times. The intensity of life. _I don’t know if I can handle this_ , Zayn had said, and Louis had known that Liam would be broken if Zayn chose to go back - if it was even possible to go back - but he’d told him that sometimes, it’s alright to give up.

Zayn didn’t want to give up though, and it had been easy to see why when his eyes followed Liam through the apartment. He’d learned, eventually. Learned to talk and learned to paint, to express his feelings and emotions in a way that helped him cope with them. Learned to find solace in books, written by authors who hadn’t gone through exactly the same thing but who understood struggle.

It still took a year and a half for him to adjust, to get to a point where he would call himself happy.

It helped, when Harry came down. It helped because it gave Zayn something to focus on, someone to help with the experiences he’d gone through, the memories he’d made. It helped because Harry understood in a way that Liam or Louis could never.

Harry was different to Zayn though. For one, he never seemed to have trouble expressing himself. He took life on the chin, carried the bad and rejoiced in the good. He adjusted in a way that Louis had never imagined he would, and not only accepted but embraced the memories, the emotions, that had been so taxing on Zayn.

It’d been a year before he’d told Louis that he’d been afraid too. That he’d been so worried that he couldn’t cut it, that a lot of his attitude had been falsified bravery, but that he’d always told himself, people are born into this every day. Babies can learn how to handle it.

Louis hadn’t told him that it was different, that babies had never known any other way to deal with it. And that even babies cried, a lot, until they learned how to express their emotions and not feel overwhelmed by life. He’d just hugged him and told him he was glad that Harry hadn’t gone back.

*

He still is. And he isn’t. Because it’s been three years since Harry came down and it’s been three years since Louis fell in love with him, a little less long since Harry fell in love with him too (though Harry says it’s only because he hadn’t known that that’s what he was feeling). It’s been three ish years of love and happiness and memories that Louis wants to hold onto, for once in his life. He’s given up little things here and there, but never anything that pertained to Harry, because Harry is the most cherished person in Louis’ life, and he wants to remember _everything_.

He wants to remember what it felt like the day they had met. How he’d known with him too, because like Zayn, Harry looked like he was handcrafted by the Gods. How he’d looked at Louis, a dimple in his cheek and green eyes that reminded Louis simultaneously of forests and precious gemstones. And asparagus, although that was a little less poetic.

He wants to remember what it was like to kiss him for the first time. How Harry’s eyes had widened and he’d blushed and spluttered because _people didn’t do that in the Sky City_ and Louis had fully realized just how loveless life up there must be. He wants to remember how Harry had kissed him back, hard enough for their noses to bump and their teeth to clack together, and how he’d apologized until Louis had kissed him again, had softened it until it was all that he’d wanted to do for the rest of his life.

He wants to remember what it felt like the day that Harry proposed to him. The first time, because he’s done it many times since, and Louis knows that it’s because he revels in having the freedom to choose, and because every time he proposes he makes him cry without fail. Louis says yes every time and Harry buys him a ring and Louis buys him a ring and they propose to each other over dinner and during walks in the park and once after really amazing sex.

He’s a masochist, because he wants to remember all of that even as Harry is getting sick and the prospect of losing him becomes a real one. Harry’s constitution isn’t used to Down Below, isn’t used to the viruses and bacteria and the more deadly diseases that roam the earth and try to sink their claws into anyone whose immune system isn’t strong enough to fight them off. 

But every time Harry gets sick, he gets better too, and for three long years Louis thinks that maybe he’ll get to keep this somehow. 

And then Harry gets sick. And this time, as months pass and doctor visits are scheduled, no matter what they do, no matter what Louis is willing to give up, he doesn’t get better.

*

The thing about life Down Below isn’t just that it’s hard. It’s also expensive, and even though people work their asses off their entire life, most of them still don’t get away with keeping all their memories. Louis isn’t sure why this is still the case after decades, but he wonders, sometimes, if it’s something that’s engineered to happen. If the Sky City people have found a way to keep them oppressed, keep the memories coming. It’s not a thought he expressed out loud, not even to Harry, because although Harry has come down and tells him he much prefers life here, he still doesn’t think he’d like to hear Louis’ conspiracy theories. It’s his family up there, regardless of biology and affection, those are his parents and his friends, the people that he has grown up with. How can Louis sit here and accuse them of deliberately making them unable to survive on money alone? 

The first few months of their friendship, Harry remains blissfully unaware of just how common it is to get memories extracted. It isn’t until he gets sick for the first time and asks Louis to take him to a doctor that it fully sinks in. Louis tells him _of course_ , but that they have to go to an extractor first, and Harry’s eyes widen and fill with tears and he grows sad for at least a day. He tries convincing Louis that it’s not necessary to go, but Louis doesn’t take any chances, not with Harry. He’s not used to it, like Louis is. His body isn’t used to it, and it won’t take to the home remedies the way Louis’ body does. 

So they go anyway, and Louis gives up the memory of first meeting his childhood best friend. It’s not so bad though, he’s got years of memories with Stan that more than make up for it. And Stan lost the memory a long time ago, when he’d fractured his ankle in high school and didn’t want to place more of a burden on his parents. 

Louis knows that Harry hates that he had to do it, but it’s not like either of them really had a choice. It’s not safe for Harry to work; not everyone was as tolerant of Sky City people as Louis’ mum was, and had brought him up to be. There was understandable hatred for those the people Down Below considered the ‘oppressors’ and even though Harry would never hurt a fly, the same couldn’t be said for the people who were tired of being taken advantage of their entire lives. He’s in danger of getting seriously hurt, if not outright lynched, and Louis would never risk that. So even though Harry hates it and tries to refuse Louis’ help, Louis takes care of him, the way Liam takes care of Zayn.

(It’s not their fault that they didn’t know it’d be like that. If they’d known how hard life could be, Louis wonders if they would’ve stayed up in Sky City. He’s reluctant to think of how hard their life would be if they hadn’t met him and Liam)

*

Their friendship takes a turn for the more intimate not long after that. 

Three years in, Harry has found some ways of making money. He babysits kids in the neighbourhood, teaches them math and spelling and tutors anyone who needs help, but people don’t have much to spare and Harry refuses to take payment if he knows that people will have to give up their memories in order to afford giving him a fair wage. He’s careful, and though some people have their suspicions, he’s become a part of their community, and no one treats him with any hostility.

Harry tries to have some of his memories extracted, to help out financially, but the first time he gives up a memory it upsets him so much that Louis has trouble even getting him to stop crying long enough to explain what had made him so miserable. He holds him through the night, promises him they’ll find a way to make it work, and Harry tries to protest, of course he does, tries to tell him that it isn’t fair and that he should be strong and be able to help out, and Louis kisses his forehead and tells him it’s not worth it if it’s going to stain his soul. And he means it. Harry isn’t weak, not by a long shot, but he _is_ different, isn’t used to the hardness of life Down Below, and Louis doesn’t ever want him to be. 

They manage. Between friends and family banding together, giving them money in return for chores or favors, between Liam and Zayn inviting them over for dinner and Louis and Harry living frugally, they manage.

*

But then the illness happens. 

Slow, at first. So slow that Louis almost doesn’t recognize it, doesn’t realize that Harry isn’t doing well until he literally faints the moment he gets out of bed. 

It turns out he’s had headaches for a month now, some so debilitating that he blacked out, some just bad enough to cause spots to dance in front of his eyes.

Louis isn’t sure whether to yell at him or comfort him, when Harry sheepishly admits to not having wanted to tell Louis because he didn’t want him to have to worry about money again. _Not after everything you do for me,_ Harry says, and Louis wants to shake him then and tell him _don’t you know that I would do anything for you_.

Harry can be stubborn, but after fainting a second time he stops resisting when Louis wants to take him to the hospital. 

They see a regular doctor first, and Louis gives up the memory of the birth of the twins. He tells Harry about it, every detail that he can remember, just so he’ll be able to remind him a little bit. It’s not technically allowed, but even when people do it, it’s no match for the vividness and intensity of the real memory. The feelings, the emotions, that had clouded the memory are never going to be replicated, but at least it’s something, and Louis is more than willing to part with it if it means soothing the worry in his stomach.

The doctor refers him for a scan, and the estimate of what it’ll cost makes all three of them cringe. It’s not healthy, to have multiple extractions done in one day, so they’re marking Harry down as urgent, and Louis has to promise to come back with the money in less than a week.

He loses the memory of his first kiss, his first time, but it doesn’t matter because the only first times that matter are with Harry. He doesn’t tell Harry to remind him of the experience, because although he’d loved his then boyfriend, he doesn’t mind losing the memory nearly as much as he minds losing Harry.

Not that he allows himself to think of that. Of losing Harry. Not then, anyway.

But three months later, with hospital visits stacking up and bills giving him a permanent headache, he is forced to face reality. 

*

Harry looks frail and white, in the hospital bed, but his grip is strong when he holds onto Louis’ hand. “Louis, no.”

“What else can I do?” Louis whispers, and he knows Harry knows he’s right, can see it in the way his eyes dim momentarily, the way he struggles to come up with an alternate solution, just as Louis has. He’s talked to his mum about it, to Liam and Zayn, and while they’re all willing to help him, they can’t afford the hospital bills any more than Harry can. “I can’t lose you.”

Harry’s lip trembles. “But you will. If you do this, you will.”

“You’ll leave me?” 

Harry looks heartbroken, and for a moment Louis fears that he’s about to nod, but then he sighs, shakes his head. It’s a small shake, because the headaches have been bad and Louis can’t stand the way he curls in on himself, the pain barely ever giving him a reprieve these days. “No.” He whispers. “I would never leave you.”

“And I would never leave you.” Louis promises, twisting the ring around Harry’s finger that’s become too loose over the past couple of weeks. Soon Harry will ask him to take it off and keep it safe somewhere, like he’s done with the other rings that Louis had gifted him over the years. And Louis will promise to do so and pretend that his heart isn’t breaking when he slips it in his pocket. “It’ll be okay. We can overcome this. You _have_ to let me do this. You have to let me save you.”

It’s too exhausting for Harry to muster up much anger these days, but his eyes are as intense as ever, his words strong, with a fire that would give Louis hope if he hadn’t been beat down with the reality of their situation often enough. “No.”

“Harry, it’s the only way.” The only way except for allowing Harry to go back, but they both know that that isn’t really an option. Harry would never want to go back, not even if it would save his life, and while Louis has been put in charge of making decisions for him (for the both of them), he would never go against that wish. But he has to do _something_. 

Harry shakes his head again, and Louis wants to tell him not to, but he can’t baby him. Harry would just waste his energy on getting furious with Louis, and he needs it to get better. Because he _can_. The doctors have said that he can. It’s just going to cost a lot of money, far more than Louis could ever hope to earn without giving up something important. The most important thing in his life.

“No. I won’t let you forget about me.”

*

Louis relents, because Harry is adamant and Louis doesn’t want to do anything without his consent. He spends a week trying to come up with other solutions, nearly driving himself crazy going over options he’s already discarded before. It’s not until Zayn stops him, wraps him up in his arms, that Louis stops.

He doesn’t _want_ to stop. Stopping means acknowledging what he’s feeling, means letting in every bit of fear and hurt and anger. He wants Zayn to let him go, wants to keep going because as long as he’s going he’s doing something useful, something that might _help_.

But Zayn makes him sit down, and he holds him, and Liam wraps his arms around him too, and sandwiched between two of the best friends Louis has ever had, he breaks down.

He cries until he’s exhausted, until his lungs burn and his eyes feel dry and his face is a puffy, red mess. He cries until his head hurts, until it feels like he’s literally one breath away from fully breaking apart. 

Liam brings him a cup of tea, and Zayn pets his hair, and it’s sweet but it’s not enough. Louis needs Harry, but he also needs to be strong for Harry, and he doesn’t know how to rhyme those two things. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says, but he’s telling it to his mug of tea, and Zayn’s hand stills in his hair for a moment before resuming its soft caress. 

*

“I don’t know what to do,” he says to Harry, that afternoon. He’s sat in the hospital chair that at first felt so uncomfortable but that his body has gotten used to over the past months. Harry’s in bed, as he always is these days, and at Louis’ words he reaches out his hand, the ring so loose on his finger that it falls to the ground with a soft _clink_. 

It’s that little thing. The sound of the ring, the way that Louis can’t immediately find it when it’s rolled under Harry’s bed, that somehow shocks him enough to break through all those walls that he tries to put up when he’s visiting. 

His fingers curl around the metal and he pulls back, allows himself to feel the pain, so vivid that he can’t breathe. “Harry, you’re dying.”

It sounds harsh, in stark contrast to the way he’s spoken to him over the past couple of weeks. He hasn’t wanted to say it out loud, too afraid that he’d manifest it, but he knows better. He knows that he’s dying whether or not he tells Harry.

He also knows Harry knows. And it infuriates him. It makes him want to scream and yell and curse, at the world, at whatever God there might be who thinks it’s alright to have these things happen to people.

At _Harry_ , for refusing to let him help. 

He sits back in his seat, ring clasped in his fist, and he wants to throw it in his face. Wants to hurl the ring at him and ask him _is that how little this means to you?_ Wants to remind him of his promise to spend the rest of his life with Louis and tell him that _this isn’t what that means._ They were supposed to have decades. Three years isn’t _enough_.

Harry looks at him, and there’s something soft and resigned in his face, and Louis wants to cry now too. “I know,” he whispers, and the sound that is torn from Louis’ throat is far too animalistic to even be a sob. “Louis.”

Louis shakes his head, cradles his first to his chest. “You can’t stop me.” He knows they’re supposed to do this together, to decide together, but how can they when Harry refuses to even meet him halfway? When every conversation about this isn’t just dismissed, it feels like it’s become a blacklisted topic. “You can’t stop me from trying to save your life.”

Harry swallows, reaches out for Louis’ hand again, and Louis wants to ignore it but not as much as he wants to reach out, wants to feel like he’s finally reached him. “I know,” he says again, and Louis’ sob comes out more as a whimper this time.

“Please,” he whispers, shifting close enough so that he can hold Harry’s hand, close enough so he can cradle it to his cheek, feel the tremble of Harry’s fingers as he tries to brush them over Louis’ skin. He’s so weak these days. Weak enough that Louis worries that giving up his memories won’t even be enough. “I would forget about you a hundred times over if it meant you’d still be alive. I can’t let you die. I can’t live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

“So the alternative is to forget I ever existed?” It’s quiet, but it hurts all the more for it. Louis swallows, closes his eyes. He knows that it’s the worst thing he’ll ever have to do, because it goes against everything he’d promised. This will hurt Harry, possibly even destroy him. 

He brushes a kiss against Harry’s knuckles. “I know that what I’m asking of you is terrible. I know that loving me when I don’t love you, don’t know you, that it’s the worst feeling I could ever put you through. But I have to have faith that we’ll make it work, baby. We can make new memories. We can fall in love again.”

“What if you don’t?” Harry whispers, and oh. It’s so clear. The fear in his voice. The worry that once he’s lost this, it’ll be permanently gone. 

Louis shakes his head. “I would find you in any universe, and not let you go in a single one.” He tells him, his own throat constricting when he can see how those words affect Harry, his green eyes filling with tears and his hand gripping Louis’ just that bit tighter. “It’s _us_. What we have, it transcends anything, H. I can’t imagine any life in which I don’t fall in love with you.”

*

Harry caves, a day later, and Louis feels terrible about it, but he also feels so relieved. They talk about it, what it means for their future. Now that they’re going to have one. Now that Harry’s not dying and Louis can finally _breathe_ again.

“I’m gonna come find you,” Harry says, and the strength with which he says it makes Louis teary eyed even as he nods, holds desperately onto his hand. “I’m gonna get out of the hospital and come find you, and I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again.”

( _Please_ , Louis thinks, _please please please_ )

Louis asks him if he wants him to sign over his visitation rights to Zayn or Liam, but Harry shakes his head. “Maybe there’ll be something left,” he whispers, and Louis doesn’t want to tell him that that’s not how it works, that forgetting about him meant forgetting everything. He’s not going to remember promising to come to the hospital. But Harry is adamant and Louis doesn’t want to go against his wishes any more than he already has. So he stays listed as his emergency contact, as his plus one in the hospital, and Louis just hopes that Harry won’t be too disappointed in him when he inevitably doesn’t show up.

It’s just going to be for a couple of days though. Once they have the money, once Harry gets his treatments, he can come home and recover. Louis knows himself well enough to know that even if Harry will be a stranger to him at this point, he’ll never leave a person in need alone, he’ll take care of him, help him through his recovery. 

Fall in love with him in the process.

*

Liam and Zayn are not on board with their plans at all, but they eventually come around, when Louis caves and tells them everything. They haven’t seen Harry since he’s been admitted to hospital - visitation rights were expensive, and only one visitor was allowed per patient, plus Harry doesn’t have a phone on him, is too tired most days to feel up to talking or messaging - so they don’t know just how sick he is, how close to dying. When Louis tells them, shows them pictures, he watches the way Zayn’s hand shakes as it reaches for Liam’s, watches the way Liam clings to him because both of them realize this could’ve just as easily been Zayn.

There’s a part of Louis that feels horribly selfish and disgusted for wishing that it was. He’d never want Zayn to suffer, but part of him wants to ask _why him_. Why _not_ Zayn? He was Sky City people too, how come he was lucky enough to dodge this bullet? 

But the first thing he’s learned about life Down Below is that it isn’t fair. 

“Are you sure?” they ask at first. And then, later on “Are you sure that you want to stay in the apartment? Isn’t that going to hurt Harry if he comes home?”

 _When_ , Louis wants to say. _When_ Harry comes home. And yes, he knows it will hurt, but he also knows that the alternative, of Louis not being there when he does will just hurt worse. 

“Tell me, okay? When I’ve had the procedure done, tell me to stay there.” He pleads with them, and Liam nods while Zayn looks apprehensive. 

“You know we’re not allowed to tell you about the memories.” He says, and Louis understands, he does, but he still wants to shake Zayn and tell him that he doesn’t live in the Sky City anymore, that down here, people don’t always follow the rules and that Zayn should understand _that_ , at least, seeing as he broke the cardinal rule by leaving the Sky City. But he knows that that wouldn’t be fair. The risk that breaking the rules poses for Zayn is real, and Louis would never want him to put his life on the line.

So instead he just takes hold of Zayn’s hand, squeezes it tight. “You don’t have to. I wouldn’t ask you to break the rules for me. Just tell me to stay there, that’s all. Please. I promised Harry I’d be there. I promised that he’d be able to make me fall in love with him again.” 

They promise him, with matching solemn looks, and Louis spends the rest of the night telling them all about his memories of Harry. All the things that he wants to hold onto and can’t, but that he can share with his friends so they’ll know just how much he loved him, even when Louis won’t. 

*

He feels hollow, when he leaves the extractor’s office. Hollow and sort of off kilter, like he’s not quite sure where the center of his universe is, his thoughts feeling jumbled and only half clear. It’s what happens, the extractor told him, when you erase a whole person.

Louis isn’t sure why he’d erase a whole person, but when he’d asked, the extractor had just told him that the money would be sent to the appropriate place, and he figures that’s the main thing. He’s not sure what he needed that amount of money for, but as long as it ends up where it should be, where it’ll make the biggest difference, that’s all that matters. 

The hollow feeling will fade in a couple of days, he’d been told, and when the extractor had asked him if they needed to find him some place to stay, Louis had told him that he’d just go home. He’s lived in this flat for the past four years, and though a part of him wants to head over to his mum’s house, there’s a small headache forming just behind his eyes and he knows that what he needs more than anything is some solitude.

He makes his way home, then stumbles through the apartment with his eyes half closed, glad that he knows the layout well enough that he doesn’t need to really see where he’s going to find his bedroom, because the headache is getting bad enough that he sees spots, and all he wants is a dark room and his soft mattress.

*

When he wakes up, it’s dark outside, and he can’t tell if the hollow feeling is because of hunger or something else. He sort of wants to go see Liam or Zayn, ask them if they know what’s happened, but he knows why Zayn disapproves of bringing up forgotten memories, knows that he’s scared to break the law and be found out, be sent back, or worse. With the way some people talk about the Sky City people, it’s best to keep a low profile; never break the law. Zayn had been lucky to find Liam when he came down, had learned soon enough that what he’d done was dangerous, and Louis doesn’t blame him for being afraid. He doesn’t want to put him in danger, especially not when it’s the middle of the night and he’s going to be alright in a couple of days anyway. 

Louis makes his way to the kitchen, is almost there when he stops in his tracks, takes a few steps back, and looks at the picture on the wall. 

It’s him, looking happy and smiley and cuddly. With a boy he doesn’t know. A very pretty boy he doesn’t know, and Louis’ eyes easily find him in other pictures on the wall, some where he’s sandwiched between Liam and Zayn, others where it’s just him with Louis. In every picture that they’re in together they’re cuddled up, arms around each other, and there’s more than a couple in which either of them has got their lips pressed to the other’s cheek.

Huh. 

Try as he might, Louis feels like he’s looking at a stranger. He racks his brain, tries to connect him to Liam or Zayn, tries to find a name, but he comes up completely empty. It’s unnerving, seeing him, seeing himself be so open and loving around someone he doesn’t ever even remember meeting.

This must be the boy Louis has forgotten then. He wonders if it was a big sacrifice to make, or if perhaps things had ended on a sour note and this was as much to help him move on as it was to help out financially.

Honestly, Louis can’t see himself as the kind of person to erase all memories of an ex, no matter how bitter and jaded their relationship had been, but then, he’d never considered himself someone to give up on an entire person in the first place. 

He must’ve been really desperate. 

But that’s in the past now. The money will find its way, the hollow feeling will fade, and whoever the boy is, he isn’t here at three in the morning, so Louis thinks he’ll probably be spared the awkwardness of ever seeing him again.

Of course, he could see him with Liam or Zayn, but a quick check of the pictures tells him that they haven’t hung out (or at least, not documented it) for at least a couple of months. It’s easy to date the pictures, with Zayn’s penchant of changing his hairstyle at least once a month.

So whatever had happened, Louis doesn’t need to worry about it.

*

It feels strange, being in his apartment, now that there’s little things all over the place that just don’t seem to belong. Things Louis can’t remember buying, clothes that are too big for him or just not his style. The extra toothbrush in the cup by the sink. Louis sort of feels like a ghost, dwelling in an apartment that doesn’t belong to him, unable to connect the dots and realize that these things don’t belong to him because he doesn’t belong here. 

Except he knows that he does belong here, because mail gets delivered to his apartment and his name is on most of the bills. 

And he has connected the dots. Sort of. Because he knows that the boy he’d forgotten about must’ve moved out recently, since a lot of his stuff is still here and there’s mail being delivered for him too. 

His name is Harry, apparently, but even saying that name out loud doesn’t ring any bells, and whoever Harry is, he doesn’t show up to claim his mail or pack up his belongings, and soon enough it’s been a week and Louis just tries to forget about him. 

Again.

He goes back to his job, figuring that having something to do will make the hollow feeling fade a little bit, and when someone asks him _how’s your boyfriend then_ and Louis answers with _what boyfriend_ , that’s the end of the conversation. He works and he comes home, he calls Zayn and Liam and makes promises to come round in a couple of days, and he can tell by Zayn’s voice that he wants to ask, is careful in the things he says, but they don’t talk about it. Zayn just asks him if he’s still in the apartment, and that’s about the only thing he is willing to say about it. 

Louis contemplates asking about him, mentioning Harry’s name, but he doesn’t want to upset him, not when there’s a large part of him that still feels off kilter. So he takes a shower and makes some food and goes to bed, and he repeats that process over and over again, throws himself into the mundane and tries to make peace with the fact that there’s a part of his life missing, and the puzzle of his past might never be complete again.

But that’s okay. Right? It’ll get better soon. It’s supposed to be.

But soon enough it’s been two weeks since the procedure and he still feels hollow, and he wonders if that means that something’s wrong after all.

Or if maybe it’s just because he passes those pictures in his hallway every morning and night. Maybe it’s time to pack them up. Maybe he should erase Harry from his apartment the way he’d erased him from his mind.

*

Try as he might, he can’t manage to make himself start packing up. Instead, he puts on a sweater that is two sizes too big on him, and for the first time in two weeks he falls asleep and doesn’t wake up gasping for air due to some nightmare he can’t remember. He’s covered by a warm scent, something sweet and fruity like a plum or raisin covered in cocoa powder, and being enveloped in it makes the hollow feeling worse the moment he wakes up, causes him to dial Zayn’s number before he’s fully thought it through.

Before he’s even considered it, is more accurate.

Zayn’s not an early riser, but he doesn’t sound too upset about answering the phone despite the fact that it’s seven in the morning. The way he says “hello?” gives Louis pause though, but only for a second.

“His name is Harry,” he tries tentatively, and when that’s followed by a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, he knows that he’s selfish enough to beg Zayn, despite the risk it’ll pose to him. 

“You remember?” Zayn asks, and Louis feels it again, that hollowness that feels like it’s almost become a tangible part of him.

He shakes his head, bites down on the pad of his thumb. “No.” He says softly. “It’s - there’s letters addressed to him. His stuff’s still here.” He pauses. “Zayn-”

He can’t do this. It’s not fair to Zayn. He’s not sure if it’s even fair to himself. There’s a saying, to not let the present be lost to the past, but he doesn’t feel like he’s really getting better. It just feels like the hollow is getting worse, and he just needs to _know_. Maybe knowing will help, will give him some peace of mind. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to ask you to tell me.” 

Zayn takes another sharp breath, and Louis is prepared to be shut down, tries to convince himself that it’s okay, that he can’t ask Zayn to risk his life for something that might be long over. But it doesn’t feel like it is, is the thing, and he doesn’t understand it. He’s never heard of it being this way, but then, he’s never really talked to anyone who’d had such a drastic extraction before. He wishes he had, now, wishes his mum hadn’t gently told him to avoid them, when they came across one of them on the street. He wonders if that’s his destiny now. If he’ll never feel whole again. He thinks maybe knowing might help, but it’s asking Zayn to break the rules, and Louis is well aware of how despicably selfish that is.

But Zayn doesn’t immediately shut him down. He just takes another breath, and Louis finds himself clinging to the phone. “You know what else isn’t fair?” Zayn asks, but before Louis can reply, he answers the question himself. “That you live in a system where you have to forget about major events in your life, about people in your life that you love more than anything, for the amusement of the people in Sky City.” His breath is shaky now, and Louis’ blood is thundering in his ears. “I’m so _sorry_ , Louis.”

He wants to reassure him. Wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he knows Zayn wasn’t at fault, that he hadn’t been able to choose what part of the world he was born in any more than Louis had. But what comes out, instead, is “I loved him more than anything?”

More than his family, his friends? It’s a thought Louis wants to dismiss, because how can that be true when he willingly gave him up?

“You did.” It’s quiet. “You know how you always say that me and Liam, that we’re nauseating with how in love we are?” There’s nothing humorous about it but Louis’ lips still quirk up in a smile, because he loves teasing them, certainly, but he thinks he loves seeing their love even more. It’s always given him hope for the future. That he’d find the love of his life one day. 

According to Zayn, he already might have. 

“You were worse. You fell for him, the moment you met him. I think you would’ve gone down on one knee and proposed to him right there if you’d had any less sense of self preservation.” 

Louis swallows thickly. “Did I? End up proposing to him?” He isn’t wearing a ring, but he’s found a few, in a box on the side of the bed that might’ve been Harry’s once upon a time. 

“All the time.” Zayn says, and it sounds sad, solemn, and part of Louis wants to ask why he’s telling him all this, why he’s breaking his rules, but there’s a part of him that’s too desperate for any information to interrupt the one chance he might have of hearing some. “It was kind of an ongoing bet, between me and Liam, just how many new rings Harry would show up with next time you came round for tea.”

It sounds .. idyllic. Perfect.

Too good to be true.

“But?” He asks, and his voice is small and he’s still wearing the sweater, the one that smells like tobacco and vanilla and _home_ , somehow, even when it’s faint. “What happened, Z? Something must’ve happened, because he’s not here and I don’t remember. Did he pass away? Did I hate remembering him so much that I needed to get rid of every last bit of him? I’m not, I didn’t think I was that kind of person, but I don’t _understand_. It’s been two weeks and I feel like every day I am a little bit less there, like that hollow feeling inside of me is growing and going to swallow me up, and it’s not normal. It’s not supposed to be like that, and it’s not all the time, but, I feel like I miss someone I don’t remember? It shouldn’t feel like that. But I just, I need to know, so I can have closure. So I can stop trying to remember him.” The words feel heavy, falling off his lips, but at the same time he feels lighter than he’s done all this time. Like he’s finally able to make sense of everything that he’s been feeling. Maybe all he needs is just for Zayn to tell him it’s _okay_.

There's silence for a moment. Then, a slow exhale. “You loved him enough to erase him from your memories,” Zayn says quietly. “He got sick. Really sick. The bills were - it was the only way that he’d have a chance of getting better.”

Louis isn’t aware of the fact that there’s tears sliding down his cheeks until he can feel a drop hitting his bare knee. He pulls the sweater down to cover his knees, hugs them to his chest. He’s scared now, to ask the question. “Did he?” Or had it all been in vain? Was that why Harry had never come home? Because he hadn’t been able to? 

The thought hurts, despite the fact that he doesn’t _know_ him. By all logic, he shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t be important to him whether or not Harry lives, but Louis blames the fact that he’s surrounded by Harry’s cologne and his belongings are still scattered throughout his apartment for the fact that he does. He might’ve erased him from his memories, but he hadn’t been erased from his life. The proof was still there, and now that Zayn is telling him about how much they’d loved each other, it feels like he’s slowly relearning how to breathe. Like everything is finally starting to make sense, and maybe he doesn’t need Zayn to say that it’s okay to feel this way after all. Maybe he just needs him to give him hope.

“He did,” Zayn says softly. “He came by our apartment yesterday.”

Louis frowns, bites on the pad of his thumb again. It doesn’t make sense. Why hadn’t Harry come home? Had they talked about it? Did Harry need some space, before feeling up to seeing Louis? Louis can’t blame him. He can’t imagine how hard it must be to love someone who doesn’t even remember you. He sort of wishes that he did, but at the same time, giving up his memories had worked, so how can he regret it? At least this way, Harry was alive. 

At least this way, they’d have another chance.

“Why-” he starts, but he cuts himself off when he can hear the laboured way that Zayn’s breathing. He’s upset, it’s obvious, and Louis doesn’t understand why, except, _of course_. “No, I shouldn’t ask you any more. I’ve already made you break the rules for me, when I know how scared you are of what that might set into motion. I can’t be that selfish.” He pauses. “Z, you know I love you, right? That whatever happened before you came down here, that that isn’t who you are? You’re not responsible for the way you grew up. I - I need you to know that. That no matter what everyone else says, I know that you’re not the enemy.”

There’s a soft sniff, and suddenly all Louis wants to do is rush over there and wrap Zayn up in his arms. Zayn, who tried so hard every day to be better than he’d been raised to be. Who was aware of his past privilege and had come down with dreams of changing the world, only to be caught up in a society that would rather hurt him than strike up an alliance. “I know,” Zayn whispers, and Louis knows him well enough to know that he’s trying to smile through his tears. Years of bottling everything up had left some scars on Zayn, and though he’d gotten better at sharing his emotions, he still preferred to gloss over them if he felt someone else needed the attention more. “That’s not, I’m not worried about that. It’s just-” he exhales, something shaky and almost physically painful to hear. 

“I asked him why he hadn’t gone home, to see you. I figured that’s the first place he would’ve gone. You told me, before, that he would. That you’d promised him you’d stay, so he could come back and remind you of everything you meant to each other.” Louis gets it now, why Zayn had asked him if he was at home, why he’d sounded so relieved when Louis had said yes. 

He swallows. “And?”

“Louis-” Zayn sounds so hurt, so full of compassion, that Louis wants to take it back, wants to retrace his steps until he was at the point he was at the night before. Ready to pack up the pictures and force himself to have some closure. Not here, at seven thirty in the morning, in Harry’s sweater, clinging to the phone and feelings tears burn in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. 

“Louis, he doesn’t remember you.”

*

It definitely wasn’t supposed to hurt like this.

Why should he care, that someone he doesn’t remember doesn’t remember him? Why should he care about the promises they’d made to each other, when neither of them remember even making that promise? 

Because Harry has had to give him up in return. Zayn tells him why, and Louis can sympathise with him, knows that it couldn’t have been an easy decision. The hospital bills had been more than they’d expected, apparently, and just Louis’ memories hadn’t been enough. Since Harry was from Sky City (and while that had been a surprise, just seeing Harry’s pictures now makes Louis wonder how he hadn’t known) he didn’t have many memories of his own to draw on. None that were really valuable enough. 

So he’d had no choice, and Louis feels bad for him. Knows, even before Zayn confirms it, that Harry must have seemed sad. Lost. Knows it not because he knows Harry but because that feeling has been ever present since the extraction, dark tendrils of nothingness spreading throughout his entire body until he felt like a shell of a person. He tells Zayn it’ll get better, hoping that he’ll forget about the desperation in Louis’ words from earlier. 

He doesn’t think Zayn has, but Zayn doesn’t call him on it. Instead he apologizes, again, tells him that now he understands why Louis would ask him to tell him about the memories. He explains how Liam had never acted that way afterwards. Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Liam’s been lucky, that he’s never had to erase a whole person, and that giving up small memories here and there were never going to prepare you for the feeling of solid ground suddenly disappearing beneath your feet. He also doesn’t tell him that he knows for a fact that Liam’s put on a brave face before, ever intent on not making Zayn feel bad. 

Instead he tells Zayn that maybe this is for the best. That now they can both move on, and before Zayn can disagree with him, he hangs up, not ready to have that conversation just yet. Zayn tries calling him again, of course, but when Louis doesn’t answer, he gets the hint and gives up. Louis isn’t sure if he wishes he hadn’t.

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel right now, in general. On the one hand, he understands now. He knows why he did what he did, but while that should feel as a relief, right now he’s more aware of just how much he’s sacrificed than ever before. He gave up on an entire person, _for_ that person. He can’t escape the thought that that means something. 

But then does it, when the person he gave everything up for doesn’t remember him? Doesn’t remember the most valuable thing in his life? 

There’s no going back from that. There’s only moving forward. Maybe this is as much closure as he’s ever going to get.

*

He can’t help but think of it though. Of their memories, now being up in Sky City. Of the people that will watch their love story, will enjoy it with popcorn and sodas, curled up on the couch in the safety of their home. He wonders if they’ll know, if Harry giving up his memories will prove to be dangerous, because someone might recognize him, or they might just pick up on the fact that some of them had gone Down Below. Louis isn’t sure how that works, if maybe the content is analyzed and censored before it’s allowed to be sold for consumption. He doubts whoever’s in charge of collecting and spreading the memories wants people to know about the possibility of going Down Below. He almost hopes so. For Zayn’s safety, and Harry’s. 

It’s strange to think about. How much of their lives are for their consumption. It makes him wonder, how much of who he is is genuine. Is he still the same person he would’ve been if he’d never met Harry? Had all the ways he’d changed him, helped him grow, been undone just because he didn’t remember him? Louis remembers some good habits, but not where they come from. Had that been Harry’s doing?

He knows he needs to stop thinking about it. Knows that whatever is done is done, and no amount of fretting about it is going to change anything.

It’s time to put it out of his head.

And out of his apartment.

He spends the rest of the morning, and much of the afternoon, packing up all the pictures, as well as everything in his apartment that he can’t remember buying. Some clothes, the rings, all the things that he feels he wouldn’t have bought for himself. Maybe it’s a bit overboard, to get rid of the bright yellow shower curtain, but he strongly feels like it’s something that’s likely Harry’s influence, and that keeping it around is not going to help him move forward. 

Besides, maybe Harry will like having a bright yellow shower curtain, wherever he ends up living. 

He packs everything up, while still only dressed in Harry’s sweater, and it’s not until he’s done that he realizes. It’s soft, and comfortable, and it smells like home, and for a moment, Louis wonders how bad it would really be if he kept it. Just this one item.

He brings the sleeve to his nose, inhales the scent like he wants to commit it to memory, and when that prompts tears to fill his eyes, he resolutely takes it off and puts it in the box with the rest of Harry’s things.

*

After a late lunch of cereal, sat in the kitchen in his underwear, Louis wonders, what now. Now that he’s packed everything up, now that he’s forced himself to have some closure, where will he go from here? Somehow, the thought of simply going back to work isn’t too appealing. Not now that he knows he’s had great romance in his life. Not now that he knows that he’s lived, and loved, enough for it to leave a void. He needs something to fill that void.

He also needs to get rid of the box. His best bet is to bring it to Liam and Zayn’s apartment. They’ve talked to Harry recently, they’ll be able to give him everything. 

Louis wonders if it’s selfish of him to put all of their pictures in the box. Pictures that have Louis in them, that could make Harry feel as bad as Louis had. Maybe he should tell Liam and Zayn to go through the box first, take out anything that’ll make it hurt worse. Louis just knows that he has to get rid of them, or he’s never going to be able to feel whole again. 

He doesn’t call, doesn’t tell them he’s coming over, because their friendship is strong enough that it doesn’t matter, and regardless, Louis has a key. He’s not sure if he wouldn’t prefer it if they weren’t home, actually, because he’s not sure if he’s ready for the sympathy. 

There’s no reason to coddle him. There’s no reason for him to feel sad. Maybe if he tells himself that often enough it’ll start to sound like the truth.

Louis wears his clothes like armor sometimes, and this time is no different. He spends enough time on his hair that his hands are tacky with product, but by the time he’s dressed and done, he looks as though he’s got it together. 

He still has to take several deep breaths before knocking on the door to Liam and Zayn’s apartment, and his hands are shaking, but he pretends that it’s because the box in his arms is heavy. He pretends that his stomach doesn’t clench at the sound of footsteps nearing the door. 

There is no pretending about the way that his jaw drops when the door opens, however. No excuse to make about the way that his heart jackrabbits in his chest when curious green eyes rest on his face. He knows him, only from pictures, from things Zayn has told him, but it doesn't feel like that. It feels like his body hasn’t been able to forget about him, no matter how thoroughly his mind had been prodded. “Hi?” the boy says, and it’s friendly but polite, that kindness that one extends to a complete stranger.

 _Don’t you feel it?_ Louis wants to ask. Because now that he’s in front of him, it feels impossible to ignore. Laughable to even consider the possibility of moving on. This boy is a stranger, but Louis’ soul still knows him. He wants desperately for Harry’s soul to cry out to him too. For his eyes to widen as he realizes. But they stay curious, and friendly, and Louis thinks he might cry. “Hi Harry.” 

That does cause Harry’s eyes to widen, and he bites down on his lip in such a way that Louis can almost feel it, feel the phantom sensation of those teeth biting down onto his own lip. “You remember me?” Harry whispers, and Louis needs a moment to convince himself that he hasn’t forgotten how to speak. 

“No,” he says softly, watches the light in Harry’s eyes dim a little bit. “No, but I _know_ you.” He swallows. “And you know me.”

“I don’t-” Harry starts, but he stops himself as Louis holds out the box to him, his eyes flicking from the contents back up to Louis’ face. “You’re Louis?”

Louis nods. “Hi.” He whispers. “Hi, I’m Louis and I think I loved you once, and I don’t remember, but I’d like to. I’d like to get to know you again, love you again-” he pauses, the way that his heartbeat calms down giving him courage, because he knows that no matter what answer Harry will give him, the universe might have more in stock for them just yet. “And I hope you’d like that too.”

There’s a small smile on Harry’s face, tears in his eyes, and when Louis drops the box in favor of brushing them away, he lets him, even leans into it a little bit. “Hi Louis,” his voice is soft, but deep, filled with emotion that no amount of extraction could ever get rid of. “I’m Harry. I don’t remember you either.” His hand shifts, to lightly press against Louis’ that’s resting against his face. “But I’m pretty sure that I loved you.” His eyes are soft now, and Louis’ own are filled with tears as he looks up at him, at this boy that has laid a claim on his heart; even if his brain doesn’t allow him to remember him, his body does, that hollow feeling finally disappearing under the weight of Harry’s gaze. 

“And if I know anything about love, it’s that true love stories never have endings.”

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please give it a kudo or a comment or come talk to me about it on my [Tumblr](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/).  
> Please also consider reblogging the [fic post](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/622908105668411392/my-love-will-never-leave-you-larry-105k-t), and reading the other works in this collection!


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